


I Must Not Tell Lies

by Drabbleshy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Romantic Angst, Self-Harm, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 13:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10832658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drabbleshy/pseuds/Drabbleshy
Summary: Harry Potter certainly has some issues. A lot of them by now. He never thought Draco Malfoy wouldn't be one of them.





	I Must Not Tell Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the following prompt:  
> "Drarry Prompt: Harry walks back from Detention with Umbridge. There are the deep cuts that her quill gave, and many others that Harry gave himself. Draco finds him on the way back to his dorms."

Draco heard the drips of blood echoing through the dark and endless hallways. He was listening for them, eyes watching the other closely, carefully, worried eyes watching the love that was forbidden to him. So close yet so far. As Harry approached from the dark distance, Malfoy gave one last look at the beautiful stars outside, and how their reflection shimmered with whatever lived in the waters below. Before the silver-haired man could even look away or speak, Potter spoke up first:  
“Malfoy, please, not tonight.” His voice revealed the stress and worry beneath the beige mask that was his face moments before. Draco sighed quietly as Potter tried to stride past him as quickly as possible, instead stopping the messy haired boy by catching him by the wrist. “Wait.” Malfoy regretted speaking a second later, seeing as his defenceless, pleading voice echoed around them moments later. “I know we don’t agree on much, Pot--Harry,” Malfoy paused, and Harry’s eyes widened even more, the little of what he processed disappearing all over again. “But, I... Want to be friends.” Maybe more, he didn’t say. “We’ve been fighting for too long. We should both leave this stupid place with at least a few good memories!” He sniffs, wiping away a tear quickly, failing to be subtle, all to Harry’s bewilderment. The blonde stared in silence, waiting for a response, worry corrupting his face within seconds. Nothing happened. Time froze, breaths were taken, but nothing happened. Until Harry pinched Draco’s left arm through the robes, just a bit above the elbow, causing the blonde to yelp and retreat, rubbing the spot; “The fuck, Potter?”  
“Just making sure you’re... real,” he answered with a calm expression and an empty voice to that mean remark.  
"Merlin, you're not that crazy." The blonde stared at the other with annoyance in his look, before his look travelled downwards, causing him to nearly gasp. "You're still bleeding- Harry. We should get you to an inf--" "I'm fine, Malfoy, I just need to get to my--" Harry paused again as if he was catching up with something. "Why'd you even care, Malfoy? Is this some little bloody prank of yours again?"  
“Somebody carved a bloody message into your fucking hand, Potter!” Literally. He sighed, as he wrestled for his hand again, finally catching it and reading the words, in a whisper. “I must not tell lies...” “Do you know that you really piss me off, Potter? Everybody’s trying to help you but, no, Perfect Potter insists on being the lonely hero, the ever-suffering warrior, the knight of the fucking Wizarding World. But what about the bloody moment when Perfect Potter ends up dead, laying in front of everybody’s feet? You’re going to be a joke, Potter, and you know it. Merlin forbid that you’d ever do something with somebody’s aid or, wors--”  
“What I do with my body is my choice, Malfoy,” he retorted loudly. “You don’t get to tell me what I must and mustn't too. If I wanna fucking die then that’s MY choice--” Draco stopped Potter from continuing his sentence. A bit of tongue over yours does end up being a touch influential over whether or not you speak, even if you are a ranting and raving, crying drama queen. Draco closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the current moment, and leant into the kiss. He let out a small whine as the kiss was broken off and almost a yelp as he suddenly felt the fast friction of what is a hand smacking against his left cheek. Also known as a slap.  
“I-I can’t believe you kissed me, you--!”  
“You were talking shit, Potter. And you slapped me!” Draco opened one of his eyes to peer at Harry; a blushing mess. He concluded that the light and soft red of his cheeks went well with the emerald green of his sparkling eyes, and gods, that messy, untamable hair! is all that Draco could think of. “Not that I’m complaining... About the kiss, not the slap- God, your right hook is strong!” Draco could still hear the sound of Harry’s hand against his pale cheek. The brown-haired boy couldn’t quite suppress his laugh nor his smirk as he mumbled his apology and stepped back a few inches. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re still going to the infirmary.”  
“But, I said I was fine, and-”  
“You look paler than me, Potter... And we’re going for me, not you. This beautiful face can’t afford to bruise. Well, maybe a few hickeys, but not a head-print,” Malfoy teased and his smile only grew as Potter became nearly fluorescent in the dark. The blonde grabbed his crimson-covered hand again and the boys exchanged a secretive smile as they changed their course.


End file.
